


Expectations

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, M/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: It’s the first time Scorpius and Albus have been to the Manor together since they started dating. They can’t help but think about how far they’ve come since they first met, and they also can’t help but take the new-found opportunities that being properly alone together as a couple can offer.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abradystrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abradystrix/gifts).



> This was written as a birthday present for the wonderful Abradystrix. Thanks for being an awesome beta, advice-giver, and friend. I hope your day is full of cake and happiness, and that you feel better soon! <3 
> 
> My logistical advice-giver and brilliant beta for this one was Brief_and_Dreamy.

They lie together, curled up on Scorpius’s bed. Around them, the Manor is perfectly still and silent, apart from the distant chiming of a clock. Midnight echoes up the stairs and along the corridors, carrying into the quiet tranquillity of Scorpius’s room. 

“Happy Saturday,” Albus murmurs, and Scorpius grins in response, squeezing his hand. 

“Happy anniversary of… I don’t even know what. Something interesting must have happened on this day in the past.”

Albus gives a dramatic little gasp. “You don’t know what this is the anniversary of? And I thought you were a history geek." 

Scorpius swats at him. "That doesn’t mean I know everything that happened on every day ever." 

"Why not?” Albus asks, feigning indignation. “I’m so disappointed in you!" 

Scorpius sticks his tongue out, and they both laugh, bodies jostling together. Albus flops his head onto Scorpius’s shoulder as he lets out a snort, and Scorpius lets go of his hand to ruffle his hair. 

Moonlight spills in through the window, mingling with the light glowing from their lit wands, which lie side by side on the bedside table, pointing in towards them. Although the corners of the room are dark, the bed is swathed in a cloak of pure, pale light, and Scorpius can see it falling softly across Albus’s face, making his eyes glint like shards of bottle-green glass. 

A warm summer breeze ruffles the curtains at the window, the peacock feather quill standing on Scorpius’s desk, and Albus’s messy hair. It brings with it the scent of roses from the garden below, and Scorpius closes his eyes and inhales. 

"I never used to imagine somewhere like this could be so peaceful,” Albus says softly. “That it could feel like home, you know?”

Scorpius opens his eyes in surprise. “I didn’t know you’d ever thought about the Manor." 

Albus looks down at his hands and shrugs. "I didn’t really, until I started thinking about coming to visit, once we were friends. I was scared, the first time you invited me. I didn’t know what to expect. I thought it might be-” he breaks off and takes a breath. “I didn’t know what your dad would be like. I didn’t know anything. I just knew it was big and scary and-and you know… that everything that happened here happened here.” He inspects his nails, avoiding Scorpius’s eyes. 

Scorpius picks at the blankets, which are wrinkled and creased beneath them. “It hasn’t always been the best place to be. Mum made it nice, and it was alright growing up here. A bit lonely, but okay… Then there were a couple of years where it was exactly like you’d expect it to be if you’d just read the history books. But now…” He glances around the silver-lit room, at the vase of fresh flowers on the dresser, at the collection of photos stuck on the wall above his bed, at the closed door leading to the rest of the house. “I like it a lot.”

Albus smiles. “I like it too." 

Scorpius catches hold of his hand and pulls him into a tight hug, which Albus returns without hesitation. 

When they part, Albus remains sprawled on the bed next to Scorpius, still holding his hand, head turned to look at him. They’re so close that Scorpius can feel the warm puffs of Albus’s breath on his face as they gaze at each other.

"What did you think of me?” Scorpius asks. “Before we met?” He doesn’t know why he says it. It just spills out. Maybe it’s hearing Albus’s fears about the Manor that are making him curious. If Albus had opinions about the house then he must have thought about the ‘son of Voldemort’ living inside it.  

Albus looks at him. “I didn’t really read the papers or anything. Gossip is… it’s something I’ve always tried to steer clear of. I mean, obviously I knew you existed, but not much more than that.” He looks down at their hands, and shifts so he’s cupping Scorpius’s hand with both of his. His brushes a thumb over Scorpius’s palm. “When I saw you on the Hogwarts Express I just thought you looked lonely. And nice. Everywhere else was so full, and everyone was staring at me, but you were just reading your book. Like you didn’t care about the rest of the world at all. You looked like someone who I could talk to, you know, be myself with." 

Scorpius gives a tiny little smile. "I hope I lived up to expectations." 

Albus squeezes his hands tight. "Of  _course_  you did. You’re so much more than I thought you might be, or hoped you would be. You’re brilliant. I love you." 

Scorpius feels his cheeks heat up, and he grins and ducks his head. "Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say." 

Albus kisses his fingers. "Just the truth.” He lays Scorpius’s hand back on the bed, and curls Scorpius’s fingers up. It’s a comforting movement, and Scorpius almost prefers it to fiddling with stuff for himself. Albus’s touch is warm and gentle, purposeful, and always interesting, always engaging. Scorpius has never once felt uncomfortable with Albus touching him. 

“What about me?” Albus asks suddenly, after several silent seconds. “What did you think of me? Before we met? You knew who I was." 

"You’re Albus Severus Potter,” Scorpius smiles. “Of course I knew who you were. How could I not?" 

Albus sighs. "I know.  _Everyone_  knew who I was. It was awful.” He pulls a face and picks an invisible bit of fluff off of Scorpius’s sleeve. 

“But you’re not how I expected you to be,” Scorpius says, watching Albus’s hands. “I don’t really know what I expected. You didn’t always look happy in the photos. I thought you might be closed off and difficult to talk to. I think I was a bit scared of you.” He smiles. “You looked like the sort of person who would never in a million years talk to someone like me." 

"You were the  _only_  person I wanted to talk to,” Albus says quietly. “The only person on the whole train." 

Scorpius grins and looks up at him. "You were also the only person on the whole train who wanted to talk to me. So I think it worked out quite nicely. Imagine how lonely school would have been if we hadn’t wanted to talk to each other? If we’d somehow missed each other?" 

Albus shakes his head and runs his hands down Scorpius’s arms, making him shiver. "I try not to think about things like that,” Albus murmurs. “I don’t think I would have done very well at school, at anything, if I hadn’t had you to help me. I mean, chances are I would have still turned time with Delphi, and she would have destroyed the entire world straight away. Without you to sort it out…” he trails off, expression miserable, eyes dark and shadowed. “I need you. To keep me in check. To keep me  _alive_. And…” his expression relaxes a bit and he squeezes Scorpius’s hand, glancing up at him. “And to tell me when I’m being a selfish little shit." 

Scorpius grins. "You’ve been a lot better recently. That other week when you were stressed about the Transfiguration test and I was feeling ill? You didn’t have to spend the evening taking care of me like that." 

"Don’t be silly,” Albus says, waving a dismissive hand at him. “You looked half dead. And I couldn’t have studied without your help anyway. I needed you to get better quickly.”

“Still,” Scorpius says, tucking a stray bit hair out of his eyes so he can see Albus properly. “I appreciated it. There’s no one else I want looking after me when I’m ill. Apart from my dad. But you come with all sorts of unique advantages that my dad doesn’t." 

Albus frowns. "Do I? Like what?" 

Scorpius shrugs. "My dad isn’t devastatingly handsome, and nice to look at when I’m feeling awful. I can’t admire my dad’s ass. I mean. I could, but it would be weird as hell, and very creepy, and ugh.” He shudders. “No." 

Albus smirks. "So is that what you were doing when I was looking after you? Admiring my ass? And wishing you could make out with me?" 

Scorpius looks at Albus, feigning innocence. "Would I ever do that?" 

Albus shifts very close to him, eyes alight and sparkling with mischief. When he speaks his breath whispers across Scorpius’s lips. "Yes, you would. I know you, Scorpius.” He puts a hand on Scorpius’s chest as he says it, right over his heart, and his fingers tighten in Scorpius’s shirt, holding him tight. “I want to know what else you were thinking about. Other than how spectacular my ass is, and how much you wanted to kiss me." 

Scorpius blinks, and his gaze flickers between Albus’s beautiful eyes, shot through with flecks of brown and blue, and his lips, which are just slightly chapped, but which always taste so good. "Well,” he says, playing ignorant. “I was thinking quite a bit about how much my nose was running, and how much my throat hurt. And I was really tired, so I was wishing I could go to sleep. Oh! And I was really craving some orange juice. You know, my mum always said that Vitamin C is great for when you’re trying to fight off a cold?" 

Albus shoves him indignantly in the chest. "Scorpius!" 

Scorpius fights not to grin. "Was that not what you meant?" 

"No,” Albus says. “It wasn’t.” His fingers tighten in Scorpius’s shirt again, and suddenly Scorpius finds himself being pulled forward, and then Albus’s lips are on his, as fiery and determined as always, so irresistibly sure of himself, and Scorpius finds himself lost in blissful oblivion.

He runs a hand up Albus’s back, sweeping and gentle, and Albus shivers. His lips part ever so slightly, just enough for Scorpius to catch his lower lip and suck on it. Albus mumbles something in response and balls both his fists in Scorpius’s pyjama top, tugging him ever closer, as if they could get any closer than they already are. 

Scorpius snakes his hand up and into Albus’s hair. He strokes his fingers through it, teasing out the tangles, enjoying how warm and soft it is. Albus only washed it a little while ago, before they came to bed, so it’s still slightly damp, and it has a sort of herbal scent, which Scorpius inhales between long, lazy kisses. 

It still feels like a joyous new experience every time he kisses Albus. They’ve only been dating for a few months, and being allowed to be so close, to touch and explore, to find out what Albus likes and dislikes, what makes him squirm and gasp and melt, is thrilling. It feels like an opportunity every time, and he’s not going to let this one get away from him. 

He gives Albus’s hair a gentle tug, just to see what happens, and he isn’t disappointed by the result. Albus gives a soft whimper and presses forward, rolling them so Scorpius is on his back, with Albus lying half on top of him. Scorpius grins against the desperate pressure of Albus’s lips, and goes back to trailing his fingers down Albus’s spine. 

He’d discovered one wonderful summer afternoon, after their exams were over, that it made Albus shudder and gasp, and when Scorpius had made a point of watching him one time, he saw Albus’s eyelashes fluttering, and this little quirk of a smile appearing at the edge of his lips. It’s too nice an effect to resist. 

He expects, as he brushes his fingers up and down, that Albus will just kiss him harder. He expects Albus to love it enough that he’ll leave Scorpius’s lips all bruised and tingling within a matter of minutes. So he’s surprised and taken aback when Albus pulls away and looks down at him. His hand stills at the base of Albus’s back, and he frowns up at him. 

“Are you okay, Albus?” He asks, taking in the pink flush of Albus’s cheeks, and the hungry darkness of his eyes. “Was that not the right thing to do?" 

Albus shakes his head. "No. I mean yes. It was. The right thing to do. But I want-” He breaks off, biting his lip. 

Scorpius cups his face gently in both hands, just because he wants to touch the softness of his skin, and feel how warm his cheeks have gone. “Go on,” he prompts. “What do you want?" 

Albus hesitates for a second before seeming to throw caution to the winds. "I want you to take my shirt off and do that again. And preferably all the rest of my clothes too, but maybe we’ll get to that later.” He flushes an even deeper red as he gabbles the words, but he boldly keeps his gaze locked with Scorpius’s, and Scorpius becomes aware of just how little oxygen there is in the room, and how difficult he’s finding it to breathe, with Albus half on top of him and looking at him like that, and the tantalising image he’s now being allowed to consider, of a naked Albus in his bed. 

“O-okay,” he breathes, voice hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “Okay. Yes. Absolutely. That sounds like a fantastic idea. One of your best ideas ever in fact. Did you know I think you’re a genius? They should give you a prize. The Muggles have this prize for smart people. A Novel Prize or something like that? You should get one of-”

“ _Scorpius_ ,” Albus snaps. “This isn’t the moment." 

Scorpius gives a sheepish, rather nervous little grin. "No. Sorry. Alright. Okay. How do you want me to-” he hovers his hands around the hem of Albus’s shirt. 

“You know how to take a shirt off,” Albus says, going even more red and sitting up. “Just do it." 

Scorpius hesitates for another millisecond, then he does it in one smooth movement. He pushes himself upright, pulls Albus’s pyjama top up and off, and throws it as far away across the room as he can, hoping that it’ll never come back, then he flops back down onto the bed and looks up at Albus. 

For a long moment after that he and Albus both stay quite still, considering this new development. Scorpius takes Albus in, in a way he’s never been able to through embarrassed half-glances in the dorm, or awkward, accidental encounters in the showers. Albus is solid, and strong but not in an intimidating way. He just looks sort of normal. Normal in the best possible sense. Defined, but still soft, and inviting. Scorpius can see a thousand places where he wants to put his hands and, Merlin forbid, his lips. 

A gentle breeze floats in through the window, and Albus shivers. He ducks his head and twists his hands together. 

"It’s cold,” he says softly, and it sounds awkward, maybe a little embarrassed, which isn’t right because Albus has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Scorpius sits up a bit and puts a hand on Albus’s chest before kissing him, firm but gentle. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs when they part, and Albus smiles and looks down at his knees. 

“Thanks." 

Scorpius strokes a hand down his side, trailing over his ribs and muscles, all the way to his hip. He feels everything contract as Albus shivers and draws in a breath. He’s watching the progress of Scorpius’s hand, and he’s still smiling in a slightly uncertain way, like he doesn’t know what to do or to expect, or if any of this is okay. 

On a whim, Scorpius pulls back and, before he can think about it too much, tugs his own shirt off. It gets stuck on his head, and his arms get tangled up, so he has to wriggle around a bit to get it off, but after a moment he’s free, leaving his hair in a static-y mess. 

"What are you doing?” Albus asks, smile a little wider already, closer to its normal, amused smirk.

Scorpius gestures to himself. “I am demonstrating to you just how luminously beautiful you are in comparison to me." 

"Scorpius-”

Scorpius shakes his head and ignores the interjection. “You’re sitting there like some sort of angel, and then there’s me, all skinny and bony. You know, Dad says he’s amazed I’m so skinny because I eat so much terrible food? He says it’s going to catch up with me one day. Which I really hope it doesn’t, because I do actually like being like this. It’s quite useful sometimes. Even if I end up getting loads of bruises at Quidditch practice, I mean look at this one! And even if it means I have nowhere near as glorious a body as you. Sorry to deprive you of having someone nice to look at, and-”

Albus throws his arms round Scorpius’s shoulders and kisses him. It’s deep and full, and something like sunshine and joy comes spilling through Scorpius’s soul. He grins against Albus’s lips, and threads one hand into Albus’s hair, the other stroking his warm, bare hip. 

“You’re not depriving me of anything,” Albus mumbles, when they part for a moment. He runs a hand down Scorpius’s back, supportive and gentle. “You’re perfect.” He pulls back and looks deep into Scorpius’s eyes, expression intense and earnest. “When we met I had no idea how perfect you’d be. All tiny and anxious and rambly. But you are.” He spreads his hands so they’re framing Scorpius, and he grins. “You’re everything I could possibly want, and I love you." 

Scorpius opens his mouth to reply, to tell Albus that he’s perfect too, that he loves him too, but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s so much to say, so much he wants Albus to know, and all the words get caught up and scrambled in his brain. He shakes his head and gives up, instead leaning across, taking Albus’s face in both hands, and kissing him.

He tries to put everything into it. How happy he is, how wonderful Albus makes him feel: confident and loved and like he can take on anything; how he hopes Albus feels the same, how he’ll be there as long as Albus wants him, loving him, and being the best possible friend he can be. 

Albus clutches at him, and maybe he understands what Scorpius is trying to say, because he pulls him as close as he can, until the only things keeping them apart are their knees, which are curled in such a way that they keep knocking together. Scorpius can feel Albus’s hot skin on his, and he can feel Albus’s heart beating, hard and fast. His own heart is keeping pace, hammering in his chest, until all he’s aware of is rhythm and heat, solid hands, the undefinable taste of Albus’s mouth, and the desperate need for more and closer. 

"Do your knees have to be there?” Albus grumbles, wriggling around.

Scorpius doesn’t answer, he flops down onto his back and pulls Albus with him; on top of him. Albus stops complaining immediately. He settles with Scorpius’s thigh between his legs, and returns to work. 

His hands smooth over Scorpius’s shoulders and down his sides. He abandons Scorpius’s mouth and presses a series of delicate kisses down his neck. It’s a simultaneously wonderful and terrible development, because it feels amazing, but now Scorpius has nothing to do with his mouth, except mumble an embarrassing string of incoherent words that he’s not sure make any sense at all. 

Albus doesn’t respond verbally, he just finds one sensitive spot near Scorpius’s collarbone and attacks it with the sort of tenacity and determination that only Albus can. If Scorpius could think at all, he’d be impressed by Albus’s quick thinking and ingenuity, but his brain is far too scrambled for that, so he just strokes his fingers up and down the length of Albus’s spine and tries to keep breathing. 

He thinks he’s doing quite well, that he’s giving a good account of himself, managing to hold himself together and not ramble too much, when Albus sits up and looks at him. The breeze ruffles his hair, and his eyes glitter in the wandlight. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks a glorious mess, but his expression is unflustered and purposeful. 

“Hi,” Scorpius whispers hoarsely, gazing at him. 

Albus takes a breath, fists clenched. “I want to suck you off,” he says, slow enough that Scorpius can hear the words, but fast enough that he’s clearly trying to spit it out before he loses heart. 

Scorpius stares at him. “What?" 

Albus goes the red of smouldering embers in a dying fire. "Do I have to say it again? You heard me. I know you did. You’ve gone all…” he makes a gesture at Scorpius’s face. “Wide-eyed and pink." 

"I’m pretty sure I was already pink,” Scorpius says, fanning himself with his hand. “It’s really hot in here isn’t it? I mean, of course it is. You’re in here, and you’re-” He looks Albus up and down and swallows. “Yes. Well I only asked because I thought I’d hallucinated.”

“You didn’t hallucinate,” Albus says, and he looks down at his knees, embarrassment finally seeming to catch up with him. “But you don’t have to say yes. It was just a- a suggestion. It’s not something we could do properly at school, with all the people around, and I’ve been thinking that it might be good. That I might- that  _you_  might enjoy it. But obviously if I was wrong-”

Scorpius shakes his head vigorously. “You’re not wrong. I think I would like that. But only if you want to-”

“ _Yes_ ,” Albus says, and it’s as much a confirmation as it is a hiss of triumph. 

Scorpius grins and props himself up on his elbows. “I’m still wearing my trousers,” he points out. 

Albus tuts. “What a brilliant observation. I hadn’t noticed." 

"Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Albus says, patting Scorpius’s hips. “Just help me get rid of them." 

A minute or so of undignified wriggling about later – which, as Scorpius points out, would have been far less undignified and taken a much shorter time if Albus had actually got off him so he could undress himself – they’re both wearing considerably fewer clothes, although Scorpius has made himself a cloak out of one of his blankets, because the night air wafting in through the window really is quite cold. Now Albus is kneeling between his legs, looking nervous and a little intimidated, although Scorpius has no idea what he has to be intimidated by. He reaches down and ruffles Albus’s hair. 

"Okay?”

Albus nods and catches his hand. “Yes. I just don’t know what I’m doing." 

"Well, whatever you do I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.” Scorpius looks at him. “It’s not as if I’m going to know the difference. Anyway, you’re so good at improvising. You’ll work something out." 

Albus bites his lip, then he shrugs and ducks his head down so fast that Scorpius has no time to prepare himself. He imagines that even if he had had some warning, he wouldn’t have been ready. Albus’s mouth is tight and hot, and his tongue is delicate. Scorpius has no idea if there’s a proper technique to this, and he doesn’t really care. Whatever Albus is doing is definitely working, and that’s all that really matters. This bold, messy enthusiasm is more than good enough, and it’s so overwhelming, there’s so much to feel, that it’s all a rush of fiery numbness, everything and nothing all at once, and Scorpius thinks he might have forgotten how to breathe. 

He grips hold of the blankets for dear life, and his toes curl into the mattress. Albus’s fingers dig into his hips, and he’s making all sorts of muffled little noises, along with plenty of slurping that in any other situation would be distinctly unsexy, but that right now just adds to the wash of sensation. 

Scorpius tries to suck in a deep breath, but it ends up shaky and shallow as Albus does  _something_  with his tongue. He flails his hands through the air and curls them into Albus’s hair, trying not to pull too hard, although it’s difficult when he no longer seems to be in control of his body. 

"Albus,” he whimpers, and it comes out all high-pitched and strangled, and Albus responds by stroking a hand down one of his thighs. Scorpius writhes, he can’t help it. His leg twitches and he clenches his fingers far too tightly in Albus’s hair, tugging Albus down lower. Albus chokes and pulls away. 

“Fuck,” he says, voice rough and hoarse. 

“Sorry,” Scorpius gasps, smoothing his hands over Albus’s head. “Sorry sorry sorry." 

"Don’t worry,” Albus replies, massaging his jaw and throat. He closes his eyes for a moment and swallows, then he looks at Scorpius and smiles. “I’m guessing it’s okay?" 

Scorpius runs a hand down Albus’s cheek and brushes his fingers over his lips, which are all red and slick. "I’m not going to last much longer." 

"No,” Albus agrees, and he kisses Scorpius’s fingertips. He lingers for a moment, running a hand down the inside of Scorpius’s wrist and resting his forehead on the base of Scorpius’s palm. Scorpius curls a lock of Albus’s hair round one of his fingers.

Albus’s eyes flutter closed, and he gives a contented little sigh. “Alright”. He stays there for a brief moment, then he pushes away and dips his head back down. 

This time, as well as his lips, he wraps a hand around Scorpius’s cock. As Scorpius’s heart pounds, and his breath catches, and his body tenses up, he grips Albus’s shoulder and says a silent prayer of thanks for the natural talent his boyfriend seems to have for this sort of thing. After that he forgets everything: the soft bed beneath him, the chill of the air, the silver glow of the wandlight. It all melts away, and there’s nothing but Albus. Albus’s lips and tongue and teeth, Albus’s hand, firm and confident, Albus’s noises of increasing pleasure, and Albus’s desperate movements as he rocks his hips over and over into the mattress. 

“Come on,” Scorpius says, tugging on Albus’s hair. “Come on. Albus, please. I’m so-” He gasps as Albus tightens his grip, and he doesn’t think he can get anymore wound up. This is it, and- “I’m going to-" 

He doesn’t finish the warning in time. From somewhere very distant, a bright hot galaxy of exploding pleasure, he feels Albus’s grip slacken and hears a delighted moan that only lasts a brief instant before it gets cut off, and replaced with choking and spluttering. The sensation of Albus around him disappears, and he hears coughing, and feels a hand tighten on his knee. 

He opens his eyes and sees Albus, one hand on the bed, the other gripping Scorpius’s knee, body bowing as he coughs, sticky come streaked across his face. 

"Merlin,” Scorpius gasps, summoning the energy to sit up and reach for Albus. “Are you okay?" 

Albus waves a hand at him. "Fine, I’m-” he breaks off for another cough. “Fine. Just inhaled at… at the wrong moment. And then panicked.” He looks up at Scorpius and a grin spreads across his face. “That was not nearly as smooth as I planned. I’m sorry.” He coughs a bit more, clears his throat, then wipes the back of his hand across his cheek and pulls a face. “I think I might need some practice." 

Scorpius shakes his head and pulls Albus up the bed to him. "Don’t say sorry. I should have warned you.”

Albus settles next to him and sighs. “Oh well. We’ll just have to practice together.” He strokes a hand over Scorpius’s chest. “Which will be absolutely terrible." 

Scorpius smiles and sketches across the outline of Albus’s ribs, with soft, delicate touches. "Such an immense hardship. I don’t know how we’ll manage." 

Albus closes his eyes and lays his head on the pillow. "You know, when I first met you, and you looked all sweet and innocent and nerdy, I never imagined that one day I’d have your cock in my mouth." 

Scorpius groans and feels an exhausted thrill of pleasure at the words, his spent body struggling to respond. He ruffles a hand through Albus’s unruly, now slightly sticky hair. "I don’t think that’s the sort of thing you think about when you’re eleven." 

"No,” Albus muses. “I suppose not.” He opens one eye and looks at Scorpius. “I really do love you. I think I knew that back then at least… You made me smile, and I hadn’t really expected to smile that day. You  _still_  make me smile. I hope you always will." 

Scorpius kisses him, as gently as he can, because Albus’s lips look bruised and sore. He’s surprised by the new taste, something unfamiliar and a bit salty. He licks his lips and frowns. "Is that-?”

“What you taste like,” Albus murmurs, and Scorpius nods, cheeks heating up again, which is ridiculous because he should be beyond embarrassment by this point. 

“Okay,” he says, flustered. “Um, anyway… I hope so too. About the smiling thing. That I’ll be able to make you- You make me happy at least, and I hope I can return the favour." 

Albus shakes his head, both eyes open now, and sparkling with amusement. "You were always really eloquent too,” he teases. “Not much has changed." 

Scorpius nudges him. "Mean. It’s always your fault. I’m never going to be eloquent around you." 

"I really hope not,” Albus grins, and Scorpius kisses him again, just because he can. 


End file.
